Calibri
by G.G. Halcyon
Summary: [WIP / HAITUS] MOLLY/MYCROFT. Several encounters with a certain shy pathologist peaks Mycroft's interest. Who really is this Molly Hooper? Mycroft is determined to find out, but would their interactions put Molly at risk? What happens when Sherlock discovers that Mycroft and Molly have grown to know each other closely and all too well?
1. Chapter One

**Title:** Calibri

**Author:** G.G. Halcyon

**Fandom:** Sherlock

**Pairing:** Molly/Mycroft

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Suggestive adult themes

**Publish:** 2014

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: MERRY CHRISTMAS

She already knew deep down that it was going to be a disaster from the moment she took off her coat and he glanced at her fleetingly. Everyone noticed her blatant presentation of a 'done-up' Molly, except him. He didn't seem to notice a difference at all. He looked at her like the same Molly at the morgue, wearing her khakis, oversized sweaters and loafers—

_same 'ol Molly, unattractive Molly, not-girlfriend-quality Molly, un-seductive Molly, 'just plain Molly'. _

She felt horribly ridiculous and embarrassed that she wanted to disappear. She wanted to rewind time to decline the invitation to the Christmas party with some excuse either related to her work, cat, or 'other friends'. But time only moved forward, and there she stood with the consequences of her actions.

She regretted deciding to wear the black dress, the bow in her hair, and the red lipstick. She assumed everyone would be dress in dresses, heals, and ties, but then again she was never invited to many holiday social gatherings outside of those that took place at work to begin with. She came in way over dressed; lesson learned.

She wanted him to notice her, but instead John and Lestrade took note and complemented her… but not Sherlock. _Never Sherlock._

She never felt as awkward and naked as she did, as when Sherlock berated her for her dress, her lip color, her breasts. She hoped he would enjoy his present, but instead saw and witness with horror as he brushed her off with a simple 'sorry' and kiss to the cheek before tending off the party to attend to better things. Somehow she felt robbed, and discarded; exposed and ridiculous.

"You look very lovely, Molly, dear."

She heard the compliments as she tried to be more cheerful and appear unfazed; yet found difficulty in doing so.

Sherlock's hurtful words echoed and scarred her; haunted her, more so than his fleeting shameless peck of a kiss of apology. And although he never apologized—and such a task from him was considered a feet—somehow something inside of her—her attraction towards him wilted.

Molly barely finished her drink when she bid goodbye. Lestrade offered to walk her to her car—a gentleman that he was—and she was sure he would talk to her about how Sherlock was a jerk or just "being Sherlock"—but she was tired and didn't want to hear them. She smiled at him and shook her head 'no' and was the first to leave the Christmas party in 221B.

Every step she took down the stairs brought on with it a clarity that she never felt before.

Molly found herself sitting in her parked car, quiet for a moment as she watch Lestrade retreat up the stairs to the party. She felt a pain in her chest and knew it was the hurt. Did she think the night would be anything but what it was? She would have been delusional or dreaming if somehow the outcome of the night was any different.

She squared her shoulders and steadied herself, her lips pursed as she tried to prevent them from quivering, as she held the tears that threatened to imitate. It was Christmas Eve, and for Molly she was going to spend it alone again.

The moment Molly stepped into her apartment she was greeted by her cat Toby. 'At least someone is eager to see me," she couldn't help but think bitterly. She watched as Toby rubbed her face gently on the bottom of her black heels; she kneels down and pets her companion.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Toby."

She was about to get up and take her coat when all of a sudden her phone began to ring. No one ever called her during this time, especially in the Holiday's unless it was an emergency. Her heart beat briefly—for a moment wondering if it could be a family member or Sherlock (why she had that thought—she felt like a traitor to her hurt feelings). The sound of the ringing startled Toby and she scattered away to the far corner of the apartment and disappeared from sight.

Molly stood up and picked through her purse.

The phone rang again.

She finally picked it up; having forgotten to look at the name on the screen.

"Molly Hooper speaking."

Her voice as steady as she tried her best to make.

"Oh, Molly, I hope you're not busy—we got a bit of an emergency here".

She mentally kicked herself for not reading the caller ID before responding. Of course, it was her work calling her.

Molly let out a breath she had forgotten she was holding.

"I'm… not busy; just got home from a party."

_Sure, Molly, make it sound like you actually have a life._

"Uhm, we need you here tonight," Stewart, her boss sounded unsettled, and he seemed urgent, "It's about a body of a woman found, we need your expertise to look at the body—cause of death—"

"Where's Daniel? Isn't he working tonight?"

Her question was unnecessary as she knew the answer. She would be going to work. She just wanted to sound as if she cared at all, and that she sounded like she had plans that were being interrupted.

She laughed inwardly at herself. She never had plans outside of work and staying at home with her cat, and she was certain her boss knew this all too well along with everyone else.

"Daniel is here, but you're requested; it's very important."

Molly furrowed, "Requested? By whom? Stewart is there something you're not telling me?"

Stewart sighed, "Listen, we have government officials here and I think this woman's body is a serious case. The gentleman here says you come highly requested. Get here. "

"I…I'll be there, Stewart, don't worry!"

Molly wondered what kind of situation would warrant an important autopsy, where she was specifically requested. She didn't know if she should be scared and worried. She felt neither. She was curious as to what she'd find, and wouldn't be surprise is Sherlock had some part in all of it.

"Give me about half an hour." Molly began to pull her coat off, "I have to change, get out of this ridiculous clothing—"

Stewart cut her off.

"They have a car waiting for you outside—"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Molly rushed to her window and looked out her door. She noticed a black car parked in the front of her building, a driver all in black stood outside of it waiting near the passenger door.

"Listen, Molly, do us a favor and get your butt in there. I just want this to get done with so we can enjoy our Holiday. Consider this three times pay during the Holiday."

"Government officials, you say?"

"Yes!" Stewart paused and Molly could hear a gentleman's voice behind him saying something she could not distinguish. "They'll take you to Barts, I'm here already. No time for you to change. Just go and I'll see you here."

The phone line clicked disconnected.

Without a second thought, Molly left her apartment. She had her spare clothes at her work closet. _I can change there right away,_ she thought.

She went down the steps and was greeted by the driver of the black car. He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and opened the door.

Molly is greeted by a gentleman seated on the other side of the passenger seat. Someone she's never met but who appeared to know her all too well, and seemed very important. Words escape her, and for a brief moment she stands outside the door simply looking at him questioningly.

'_What the hell have I gotten myself into_,' she thought as her gaze is met by steeling grey eyes.

"Please do get inside, Ms. Hooper. We shall talk about exactly what it is your task will be."

"And you are?" Molly asked; a concern in her voice as she feels uneasy about the situation, and yet curious in the same. She needed to know who this man was before she would freely get inside.

"Mycroft Holmes," he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh."

"Please do get inside. We have matters of grave importance to tend to."

TBC

Please R &amp; R

08/24/14


	2. Chapter Two

**Title:** Calibri

**Author:** G.G. Halcyon

**Fandom:** Sherlock

**Pairing:** Molly/Mycroft

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Suggestive adult themes

**Publish:** 2014

* * *

CHAPTER 2: THE OTHER HOLMES

Never in her life did Molly expect that: 1) Sherlock had an older brother, 2) she would meet him face-to-face, and 3) said brother would be some sort of government official.

She was in close proximity to a man who she never imagined she would ever meet. He sat across from her in the cabin, his umbrella resting next to him and a brown folder which caught her attention immediately. She watched as he lifted a dark brown folder with 'CONFIDENTIAL' and the words 'The Woman' imprinted on it and opened it. He then began to speak as she flipped through the documents in the file.

She listened as he began to debrief her about the woman whose body she would be doing an autopsy on. His voice maintained a businesslike and matter-of-fact tone, as if their very predicament was simply a normal everyday occurance.

Molly made a conscious decision not to meet his gaze, and looked outside the window as their car drove and his voice continued. The streets appeared barren except when an occasional lone vagrant came into view and shuffled into an alleyway in an inebriated state. So strongly did Molly felt she determined to appear unaffected by Mycroft's presence, that she even forced herself to count how many traffic lights they passed and noted how every light appeared to magically turn green as their vehicle approached it.

She tried to focus on anything except him studying her intently as he spoke, or that he somehow made her feel flustered. If he was a brother of Sherlock, she was sure he had the same crazy ability to 'deduce' her and leave her exposed already even without saying a single word. The thought made Molly uneasy, unsettled, and at the same time curious at about the whole situation.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she took a moment to realize he had stopped speaking. She hadn't been fully listening. Had he asked her a question that she was to answer? Did he realize that she wasn't fully listening at all?

It felt like a long amount of silence, yet she knew only a minute passed. She felt that Mycroft expected her to say something, to ask multiple questions, or to acknowledge whatever he had presented to her. She didn't want to sound ruffled, or daft.

Molly rummaged her brain for snippets of what he said about 'The Woman' that she caught on to. She heard him discuss how the woman in question was a Dominatrix, her murderers disfigured her body, and how there was an issue with identifying her. Molly also was sure he mentioned "national security" multiple times in his speech.

She forced herself to meet his watchful eyes and gathered herself.

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," was all she said.

She accepted whatever it was that they asked of her, after all she had nothing else to do that night. After the debacle of the Christmas party, she was willing to accept anything to get rid of the horrible embarrassment she had felt. Also, she had experienced far more odd situations in her years of helping Sherlock and John with their investigations. What would one 'The Woman' do to her? What would an encounter with the other Holmes do to her, too?

"I appreciate you agreeing to aid with this investigation."

He closed the file, as he studied her, an iced and unreadable expression on his face. Molly looked at the file he set next to him. Who was this 'Woman' and what had she done to lead the British government to schedule a private and immediate autopsy? Why was she even asked to take part in it?

Molly met Mycroft's gaze again and stopped her hands from fidgeting on her lap. She cleared her throat, and straightened her back ever so slightly to force herself to gather any sort of composure and confidence before she spoke.

"Why me?" She asked, "Any pathologist would be able to help you with this autopsy."

He crossed his arms over his chest, a look of assessment in place.

"Well you see, let's just say that I am aware of your intense involvement with my brother and his cases, and I do not doubt that your skill and expertise is one that is superior from others."

"All because Sherlock trusts me with his investigations?" Molly shook her head. _How ridiculous for that to be the case! _Sherlock never made a compliment on her abilities as a pathologist. Had he mentioned her to his older brother? Somehow Molly doubted this.

"Yes. And my brother is very peculiar with the people he acquaints with." Mycroft's voice was concise, steely and with a purpose. "However, this matter is not one of Sherlock's investigations. It is a matter of the government, and one that requires kid gloves and the assistance of a person that Sherlock is acquainted with."

_Acquainted with?_ She thought of that word 'acquainted' all too well and realized that it summed up her relationship with Sherlock all together. They were not friends, only acquaintances and nothing more. She stopped herself from delving into her heartache.

"You mentioned it is a body of a dominatrix." Molly didn't want to know how Sherlock knew this woman and how they were acquainted in any way.

"Yes," Mycroft cleared his throat, "And we will need your help in finding out the cause of death. Everything you'll need to know is within this file."

He uncrossed his arms, picked up the file next to him and handed it to her. Molly accepted the folder from his outstretched hands, a myriad of questions coursed through her.

She flipped to the first page; a picture of a beautiful mysterious woman met her curious eyes and atop the page marked "Top Most Wanted"… She read: espionage, terrorist assistance, murder, assassination…

Molly closed the folder immediately and glared at Mycroft.

"I'm just a pathologist!" She stops herself from throwing the folder back to him. "I…I don't think I need to know all these other information about 'The Woman'."

"Yes, you are a pathologist, and someone, I'm sure, I can trust with this."

"I'll do the autopsy, but I don't need this other information." She doesn't dare open the file again.

"You're wrong in that, Ms. Hooper—"

"Molly." She corrects him before she could stop herself.

"Molly, you will need that information to better assist in identifying this body. You will see once you see the body that every detail of 'The Woman' will only open your eyes in the predicament in which she found herself, and what triggered her murder."

"I feel like you're not telling me everything," she took a deep breath, amazed at finding her voice, and wondered if her fear of uncertainty and the situation, as well as the horrible end to a Christmas party and the few drinks she took made her more brazen.

"I only show and diclose what is needed and for your best interest."

"I don't know you, I don't know what it is you really do," she made sure he noticed her lingering gaze in observance. "Mycroft, I've never heard of Sherlock speak about you, and I would ….I would appreciate not being a part of any of this now that I think of it." She changed her mind.

Mycroft did not seem fazed. He simply looked her in the eyes, the corner of his lips twisted upward, "I wouldn't be surprise, as my brother does have his peculiarities… however, your assistance is required by the British Government."

She was quiet for a moment, as she considered the situation and what happened. "In this case, I don't have a choice."

"Clearly, not at all."

As if in perfect timing, their car pulled directly in front of Bart's.

Molly gulped down her nervousness down.

_Well, at least you're not alone with Toby this Christmas. _She thought sarcastically as the door was opened and she and Mycroft stepped out.

TBC

Please R&amp;R

Eiri Lain

08/25/14


End file.
